His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Very glad. Damn! I’ve splashed. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. First-off, he had decided not to tell her what he had found at the bottom of that manila envelope.
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